


Daybreak

by bunnybunz



Category: Weak Hero, Weak Hero (Webcomic), Weak Hero (Webtoon)
Genre: F/M, Fighting, Fluff and Angst, Tasty Bad Boy(s), you know you want it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27633713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnybunz/pseuds/bunnybunz
Summary: Alex Go/Reader/Wolf KeumThe day brings to you Alex Go, and in the night, Wolf Keum.Your past is inescapable. They build you up and tear you back down, but this is what you need to survive.[In which you lose the one thing you hold dear after a car accident, and refuse to move on. Enter Alex Go and Wolf Keum.]
Relationships: Alex Go/Reader, Alex Go/Reader/Wolf Keum, Hyun-Tak Go/Reader, Seongji Geum/Reader, Wolf Keum/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 66





	1. The Both of Them

“And why not?” You ask, cheeks flushed and heart pounding in your chest. “Why not me?”

When he looks at you, there’s a certain kind of disregard in his eyes. The hazel twinkles like stars, you think. Bright yet so far away.  
He doesn’t answer you and turns away to nurse his drink instead.

His friends chortle and you pretend not to notice, but a burning humiliation creeps up your cheeks and you can’t discern if it’s from the alcohol or the embarrassment of so many eyes on you at once.  
In the periphery of your vision, you can see yourself in the clean reflection of the windowpane, darkened by night, speckled by stars.

There’s muted conversations and the clicking of dirty silverware on fake china, of beer cans falling over and clattering hollowly with the floor.

“I just want to understand you better.”

You can’t wrap your mind around why you’re trying so hard to talk to him. It shouldn’t matter, you shouldn’t care. That’s what you tell yourself, but your feet are erected in the ground like a permanent structure and they wont budge, no matter how many times you beg them to leave, leave, _leave._

“Wolf’s been having a shit day. I’d recommend you get the fuck outta here before you give us a reason to make it any worse.”

Your resolve embodies itself in your shoulders. They stiffen with frustration, sturdy as an iceberg- then drops suddenly, melting away all at once like cold water running down your back.

The man throws another wayward amber glance in your direction, as if sizing you up for a fight. You would’ve laughed at his belligerence if you weren’t so sure he’d knock out your teeth.

“I’m sorry. I was getting ahead of myself.”

You can feel the stares of the other patrons on you back, but none of them sear you, hot and daring, as much as the pair before you. His glasses catch in the light, and for a brief second you see yourself again.

Desperate, and pathetic. Looking and looking.

Your legs unstick from the mosaic tiled floors, but they feel leaden. You don’t care though, as long as you can move you should go.

You let your legs carry you out of the restaurant, but it feels more like conscious dragging at this point. You think he watches you on the way out, and you wonder if you’ll regret any of this tomorrow.

A tinkering bell chime announces your re-entry to the crisp nighttime air, but the evening breeze does nothing to ease the pounding of your head or your heart.  
You take a few staggering steps away from the eatery and lean against the brick wall, appreciating the cool sensation washing over your burning cheeks.

The moon is bright and it irritates your eyes. A fist clenches at your side and you grit your teeth at the sting of nails pressing into the soft flesh of your palms. Pain shoots up your arm and you release your grip, but remain unable to get his shitty visage out of your mind.

Purple hair, hazel eyes, red blazer.

“Fuck…”

Your foot meets the wall and you hope that at least a bit of sediment will chip off but it does not yield.

Purple hair,

“Fuck.”

You kick the wall again, this time with more vigor.

Hazel eyes,

“Fuck!”

A puff of dust arises from the wall and you’re unsure of whether it’s from your shoe or the building, but you don’t really give a shit anymore.

Red. Blazer.

You feel your hand curl into a fist again, tight enough that your whole arm shakes with it. You can’t get it out of your head, and you hate that you can recite it from memory.

“FUCK!”

You reel your arm back and send it flying to the wall, itching for the crunch of knuckles, the bursting of skin, the trickle of blood.

But another hand stops you.

It catches your fist in a hand larger than yours, wrapping around it and easily encasing your hand in his.

You look up and expect to see those burning eyes again but are instead faced with a stranger, a sheepish grin plastered on his face.

“That would’ve hurt.”

You don’t realize your vision is blurred until you try to make out his features. Your fist is still captured in his grip and when you move to pull it back, he hastily releases it with a blush on his pale features.

“Ah, sorry. I just grabbed you without thinking.”

He says this as you wipe away your tears with your sleeves, silently admonishing yourself for losing your temper in public and letting a stranger witness it, but he doesn’t comment on it.

He looms a beat longer than necessary and you wonder why until you feel yourself swaying back and forth.

You're not sure what to say to fill the silence, so you remain quiet. Luckily, he seems to take the hint and hops in.

“I’m Alex Go. From Eunjang High School.”

You think it sounds familiar. It might’ve been one of the schools that all the delinquents came from, but you couldn’t be sure.

“I’m (Y/n).”

You shift in place and cross your arms across your body, eyes trained on the concrete rippling below your heels, wondering if you should’ve opted for flats instead.

Alex furrows his brows at your guarded pose and chews on his lip, pushing his hands into his trouser pockets.

“Are you feeling okay? You were really going at the wall here, before.”

There’s a twinge in your heart at the hint of concern in his voice, and can’t help the snark that seeps into your response.

“Yeah. I’m tipsy and just got humiliated by some jackass, but other than that I’m cool.”

The slur is hard to ignore. Harder to ignore than the clicking of your heels against the sidewalk, harder to ignore than the hiking hem of your dress.  
You can almost swear you see Alex gulp, sweat beading at his temples in an earnest attempt to keep his eyes on your face. You think its cute, but opt out of telling him lest you give him a heart attack.

“O-oh, right…” He trails off, palming at the back of his neck. “Sorry to hear that.”

You slide your eyes down his tense body and watch how your shadows cross on the floor, dark and muted on the concrete.  
The moment of silence stretches into a minute, and you decide it’s time to retire for the night. You brush past him, a lopsided smile fixed on your face.

“Well, I should be going home now. It’s getting late and we’ve both got school tomorrow, don’t we?”

You turn back to look at him, but all the sudden movements are too much for your slogging brain. A piece of your heel snags in the sidewalk and you stumble a bit before catching yourself, sending Alex into a frenzy.  
He’s at your side in a second, arms hovering around your shoulders and waist in case you take another tumble. He isn’t touching you, but the boy is like a damn radiator giving off all this heat.

So much for a suave exit.

“I uh,” He gives a half shrug and a shy grin. “I have late classes tomorrow. I can walk you, if you’d like?”

You look at him and only then does he realize how close he is to you. He makes the motion to back up, but a hand snakes out to snatch his sleeve, anchoring him in place.

“Sure. I’d like that.”

He gulps again, and this time you know it happened because you can see and hear it. His eyes are green and glassy. You can see the reflection of the world in them, and you like it.

“Alright,” He says, a bit breathily. “Lead the way, then.”

The entire way back was filled with light conversation, and Alex repeatedly asking if you wanted his shoes after you took off your heels.

You ask about his friends and learn about “Big Ben” Park, Gerard Jin, Eugene Gale and the enigma Gray Yeon.

He asks about your hobbies and learns of your prospects to become a world-renowned writer, or an Olympic wrestler.

When Alex laughs, you feel your lips curl up too and it’s like forgotten magic.

When you arrive at your humble apartment, all the unpleasant thoughts and memories of tonight, and many other nights before this one, have been placated.

“This is me.” You turn to face him, heels dangling from your fingers.

You know you must look deranged, lip color smeared from the drinks and eye makeup smudged from the tears earlier. But in the pale glow of the flickering, yellowed streetlights with Alex, you feel rejuvenated.

“Thanks for accompanying me, Alex Go.”

Alex smiles, a soft, charming blush on his cheeks and brushing over the light scar across his nose, not expecting you to use his full name.

“Yeah, of course. I’m glad you made it back alright.”

He shuffles in place but doesn’t turn to walk away. You wonder if he has anything to say, and when he doesn’t speak, you decide you do.

“Alex?”

“Hm?”

You see his green eyes widen a bit before you’re enveloped in the pressed material of his school uniform, the stiff blue collar pressing into your face. You wrap your arms around him, pressing your head into his neck. He smells like freshly cut grass, and pine, and he’s warm compared to the autumn air.

He stutters, but doesn’t push you away, hands poised to return the gesture. You pull away before he can gather his wits about him.

“Thank you. Seriously.”

You press a gentle, chaste kiss on his cheek. A sign of hope, of hope to persevere. His skin feels good on your lips, and his hair tickles your nose.  
When you pull back, you fold both hands behind your back and give him a cheeky smile. You stand to admire how the scarlet blush creeping up his neck complements his fair skin and tender gaze.  
He reaches a hand up to hold his cheek, eyelashes fluttering.

“T-thank you…” he trails off, then pulls himself out of his reverie, catching his mistake.

“I mean-! You’re welcome! It wasn’t any hassle, really.”

You giggle and step back, admiring the gleam in his eyes and the subconscious quirk of his lip. Another step back, then a wave goodbye.

“I hope I’ll see you around, Alex Go.”

You slip back into your apartment without another word, the door clicking closed behind you.

Alex lingers, flustered, watching the spot you once stood. Under the moon illuminating the street, through the brush of reddening leaves, he lets out a breathy sigh.

He hopes so too.


	2. The Two of You

When you wake up to the alarm in the morning, the ringing thrums a migraine in your head that could only be a hangover.

You blearily open your eyes and look to your alarm clock to the right, the intense sunlight piercing through your curtains further inflaming your headache.

7:10AM

You roll over and slap the snooze button, flopping back down onto your back with a sigh.

You lay in bed for a while, running through your classes for the day. You didn’t recall having any tests or quizzes, so you take the day to heal from your drinking binge instead.

The next time you open your eyes, it’s 1:43PM.

The sunlight has dwindled from sweeping over your face to sitting shyly in the corner of your room, refracting through the window and streaking a rainbow onto your wall.

Wolf and Alex Go flipped through your mind like a stop-motion movie, and only looking back on it did you realize what entirely different characters both were.

Wolf was cold. Everything about him was so goddamn cold, his stare, his presence, his mannerisms. But Alex Go was warm in a soft way, warm in the way the sun would feel washing across your face at the beach.

You wondered what business fate had in bringing both boys to you in one night but abandoned the sentiment as soon as it popped into your head.

You were tired of hearing about fate and of destiny, it reminded you too much of what he used to say.  
Life was fickle, and you knew it, lolling from one side to another, one moment in your favor, the other against.

Heaving a sigh, you push yourself to sit up and swing your legs over the bed.

Your shadow played across the floor and traversed to your desk, messy with the clutter of books, journals, and half-written novels.

You pay them no attention and stroll over to the closet, pulling a shirt from a hanger to wear to the local food mart.  
A grumble erupts from your stomach and find yourself salivating at the possibilities of different ramen flavors or day-old cold cuts.

You head out to the market after freshening up, and the trip there takes a little less than a few minutes.

The elderly lady at the register gives you a sweet smile and welcomes you, and you return the gesture with a bow. Your eyes skim the wall of chips and baked pastries until your gaze lands on the shelf you were looking for.

You peruse the selection of gourmet instant ramen, tapping your chin thoughtfully and pondering the root of all human struggle, beef flavor or chicken flavor?

The door chimes distantly and a few people walk in, exchanging greetings with the cashier.

You close your eyes and let the sound of others around you seep into your soul. It was days like this that everything felt normal again, like time had finally begin to move forwards again. You craved it, but always knew this relief never lasted for long.

You open your eyes and see the slight furrow of your brows in reflection of the vending machine beside you. You also notice a pair of legs trailing up to a familiar white and blue uniform, and whip around.

“Alex Go?”

“Hey!” He smiled, and even in the blue-hued light of the fluorescent bulbs, he shone like the midday sun. “I thought I recognized you, but I couldn’t be sure.”

You turn to face him and rub your arm, giving him a tiny grin. “I knew we’d be seeing each other around, but this soon? You sure you not stalking me?”

You reach out to give him a playful punch, and he barely budges.

“Stalking?” he seems genuinely taken aback until he sees the look on your face. “I mean, if I was stalking you, I’d hope you hit harder than that!”

He laughs and the sound is melodious, boisterous, but not grating. The way his shoulders shake mesmerizes you for one, two, three seconds.

“Hey, you’re lucky I didn’t use this hand instead!”

You wave your right fist at him and pretend to swing, and right on beat, he feigns impact with a dramatic pop of his shoulder.

There’s a light feeling in your chest, and it flutters with each beat.

When was the last time you spoke to anyone like this, the last time you spoke to anyone at all?

“What are you doing here?” He asks, green eyes alight and curious. “Other than looking at instant noodles, I mean.” He gestures to the shelf you were both in front of, and you shrug.

“I had a pretty shitty hangover, so I skipped class and stayed home instead.”

You feel a bit abashed admitting that aloud, but continue regardless.

“I also forgot I don’t have a lot of food back in the apartment, so I had to crawl out and get my rations for the week.”

His gaze is gentle but piercing.

You hadn’t noticed yesterday in the shroud of night, but his hair was exceptionally dark. You wouldn’t liken it to the pitch-black darkness of nighttime, but to the gentle shadows cast by foliage on a peaceful afternoon at the park.

His eyes were a lighter variant of green, like the pale olive of leaves right after the end of winter, just before the start of summer. It was a delicate kind of beauty that felt tender to behold, and you cherished it every moment you could.

“Cutting? Come on, there can only be one delinquent here.”

He bumped his shoulder into yours, but it was mostly your shoulder colliding with his bicep.

“And I’m no professional, but I don’t think cup noodles are the best thing to eat during a hangover.”

You let your fingers dance over the flimsy cardboard packaging, humming.

“Well, it’s the fastest and easiest. So unless you’re going to help me, I suggest shutting your trap.”

You poke him in the chest and your breath gets shallow when you feel lean muscle under the modest uniform.

Alex flusters as well, though much more outwardly. He clasps his hands over his chest where you jabbed him, and his voice comes out an octave higher than usual.

“What? What do you need help with?”

He looks to you for an answer and finds you brandishing two boxes, one chicken and the other beef, trying desperately to hide your awkward reaction with an equally as bizarre question.

“Noodles. Fresh, hot, preserved noodles. Chicken or beef?”

You don’t really care what flavor he chooses but you hope the diversion works.

Alex falters a bit at the sudden change in topic and mood, but much to your relief, eventually eases his sights on the boxes in your hands.  
He has to stop himself from rolling his eyes, but he can’t stop the cocky smile from overtaking his features. He places a hand on your shoulder and raises an eyebrow.

“Uhm, duh?” He gestures to the box on the right. “Chicken.”

You beam at him and put beef back on the rack, plucking a few more chicken ramens off the shelf.

“You, my good sir, are a man of good taste.”

Alex drops his hand from your shoulder and winks at you with a chuckle, his words igniting a fire in your cheeks.

“Oh trust me, I know.”

You can’t stop the smile that creeps across your reddened face. “Don’t be coy with me, Alex Go. I still remember the way you stuttered yesterday.”

“Coy? Who’s being coy?” He laughs and feigns ignorance, but his jittery feet, bobbing this way and that, give him away.

He eyes the fridge behind you and sighs, shoulders slumping almost comically.

“Shit, I almost forgot why I came here.”

He busies himself with grabbing handfuls of ice cream, and you peer at him curiously. He catches your stare and explains himself as he counts the number of cones he has.

“I’m on snack duty for the group today, those lazy bums were ‘too busy’ teaching Gray and Eugene how to play pools to come out with me.”

He steps away from the fridge and closes the door with his hip, the suction of air making a fleeting ‘ _thwump.’_

“They’re just broke and won’t admit it, fucking losers.” He says this, but there’s a smile on his face. You smile with him, because now seems like a good excuse to be happy.

You both walk to the register and Alex goes first, but still waits until you have everything in a bag.

When you step outside, the sun is intense but warm. You have to squint to see anything, and when you look at Alex you see he’s doing the same thing. He catches your eye, and you both laugh at each other until your stomachs hurt.

“I guess this is where we part ways.” Alex says, still slightly out of breath, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Yeah, guess so.” You wring your hands a bit, feeling a bit jittery at the thought of returning to solitude.

Alex hesitates too but you barely have time to register it before he freaks out, seeing the time on a clock hanging from a nearby shop.

“Holy crap! I’ve been gone for _that_ long? Ben’s gonna chew my ass out!”

Alex grabs your right hand to shake it and misses the way you flinch.

“It was so nice seeing you again! I just feel like we kind of click, yaknow? If that makes sense.”

He retracts his hand and ties a knot on his bag, he’s moving and talking so fast you can’t keep up. You’re still stuck on how he says you both click, because you think so too and you’re so glad he feels the same-- and you don’t want to go home and you don’t want to be alone.

But he’s taking off before you can even understand he was saying goodbye.

“I’ll see you later! Get home safe!”

He waves and takes off charging, and he reminds you of a soaring jet.

There’s a noise in your throat, but no words come out.

Your hands clench and unclench, heart still hammering from when he took your palm in his.

You don’t want to wait to see him again, you think. You don’t want to leave it up to chance, or fate, or whatever the fuck they called it.

How long have you waited for someone to hear you? To see you? To feel you?

“Wait!” You shout, and it pushes all the air from your lungs.

You give yourself half a second to inhale then take after him, the plastic bag with your noodles tugging on your wrist.

“Alex!”

By some miracle, he hears you and turns around, stopping short in his sprint and waving at you.

He cups his hands over his mouth and shouts something you can’t hear over the whistling of the wind and the rustling of the bag at your side.

When you finally catch up to him, you’re totally winded. You wonder what kind of superhuman stamina Alex had because he didn’t seem to be struggling at all.

You place your hands on your knees and double over, taking deep breaths of air that burn your lungs but make you feel so goddamn _alive._

“Woah there!”

Alex braces you with two hands on your arms.

“I told you I’d wait for you. Why’d you keep running like that?”

“Give me your number.”

Alex’s eyebrows shoot up, and his hands fly off your body.

“H-huh?”

Your voice comes out raspy and weak. You’re only able to speak between inhales, but it doesn’t stop you from repeating yourself.

“Give me. Your number.”

Alex’s bewildered expression greets you when you look up, face red from exertion and embarrassment. Upon seeing your ruffled state, Alex makes a weird noise at the back of his throat and reddens as well.

“O-oh. I thought I misheard you…” He swallows thickly and rubs the back of his neck again. “Did you run all the way here to ask for that?”

You give him a look and drop your head again, giving one last exhale before rising again.

“Yeah, I did.”

Alex’s blush spreads to his ears, and his green gaze flickers from you to whatever thing wasn’t you. His dark hair tousles in the wind, and he rubs his nose.

“Oh wow. I mean you didn’t need to sprint, I’d be flattered regardless.”

He gives you another smile, and you notice that when he’s nervous his smiles are close-lipped. Either way, it warm your chest.

“I was just afraid I couldn’t catch up to you.”

He reaches for his phone and extends it to you after unlocking it, and you try hard to ignore the background he has of a tall, tan redhead face-first on the floor at a bowling alley.

“I would’ve waited.”

You type your number into his phonebook and call it, waiting until the buzz of your phone resounded from your pocket.

“I wanted to be sure.”

You hand the phone back to him. Your fingers brush and you don’t miss the way he jolts a bit.

“Right.”

He shifts a bit back and forth, like he couldn’t decide between staying or going. Or maybe you were just hoping that was the case.

You notice the bag he’s holding is dripping something, and you point it out to him.

“Oh crap-!” He opens the bag and is relieved to find its just condensation, but remains jumpy.

“Ah, thank god. But it’ll be the ice cream next. I really gotta go this time, I’ll see you!”

He takes off for a bit, and you watch, baffled, as he stops short and runs back to you, jogging in place. The condensation from the bag flies off and hits your arm.

“And uhm- I’ll call you.”

You blink in surprise, and can’t help the bubble of laughter that erupts from your lips.

“I’ll be looking forward to it, Alex Go.”

He returns the smile and it’s radiant as ever. It leaves you warm when he turns to leave, warm when his back is just a speck in the distance, and warm still when he’s out of your sight.

Alex Go, you think. Your fingers flex a bit at your side. And you smile.


	3. Him, All Alone

When darkness creeps into the sky, you can see the shadows of a dwindling day inching into the room.

You sit hunched at your desk, a pen in hand and a notebook open before you.

Typed notes with yesterday’s date sit neatly in a pile, courtesy of your teachers. You had finished all the assignments that were given today, so the rest of the evening was yours-- and yet, you couldn’t seem to make anything of it, like always.

A laptop lay haphazardly on the bed as if thrown there. Papers and sheets littered the floor, a mixture of both typed notes and haphazard writing progressing into black and white scrawl.

You tightened your hold on the pen until your knuckles were paler than the paper. The other hand tapped impatiently on the table, waiting for something while staving off something else.

A mess, and you couldn’t fix it. You couldn’t get the wheel turning and you’ve been fighting it all night, but you have to think back on it again.

Purple hair, hazel eyes, red blazer.

It was like a curse. When you swallow, it feels like you’re choking.

“Ah, crap. Seriously?” You chuckle lowly, but its stale and drops like deadweight in the air.

A hand threads into your hair and you pull at it a bit, as if that’d help relocate lingering thoughts find a way back into confinement, as if it’d pull things out of your head that mattered.

You drop the pen and fold your arms up, dropping your head to rest on the desk. You peer at the phone beside your head, and tap the screen.

It lights up your dim room, and in the split second it takes your eyes to adjust to the brightness, there’s a glimmer of hope.   
But there’s nothing on the screen. No texts, no reminders, alarms, or missed calls. Vastly empty, making room for vast longing.

The sunset was gone now, reduced to a few straying rays of light. You flip over the phone and turn to the window. You wonder how you’d seem to someone looking in. Would you seem lonely? Could they tell you hadn’t felt whole since then?

Thoughts running in a circle, you can almost hear it again.

The beeping of a heart monitor. The clicking of shoes on white tile. Feigned hope and lies draped in white coats, hushed whispers, as if it didn’t matter that you knew the truth too.

Their words to you were no more than empty promises, false reassurances. They swam lazily, leisurely in your mind, giving you hope then snatching it away. The words live in your heart, reside there. Won’t let you forget.

His face plays in your mind, and you morbidly wonder what expression he made before the impact. Was he scared? Did he see it coming?

Eyes squeeze shut when you can feel the tears collecting again, pooling and forcing their way out in the sneaky way tears do.

Your hand clenches and unclenches, and you raise it and drop it again on the table, weakly, like the world’s shittiest attempt to muster anger.

“Why him?” You wonder, and hate the way your voice sounds fragile. “Why did it have to be him?”

The scent hits you again. Burning tire, sporadic blinking of a traffic sign, lights shooting through the night too much too late for you to do something. _Anything._

“Haha, shit.”

The room is still. Nothing moves.   
An occasional car passes a ways from you, and the distant whirr of wheels on asphalt echoes through the nighttime air. It’s accompanied by a streak of headlights approaching, then fading into darkness.

It stays like this for a very long time, and you remain glued to the spot. The night is always stagnant. You always itch for something to distract you.

Your phone vibrates on the table. You tell yourself you won’t bother to check, but you do anyways. It’s just a reminder that your bill is due soon, but you barely have enough energy to be disappointed.

You eventually rise again, but the way your spine curves into your body, shoulders pulled close…

You see yourself in the mirror when you drag yourself to the bathroom and turn away in distaste. It’s no wonder Wolf hadn’t wanted to speak to you, it was almost like staring at a husk of a person. Disturbing and pathetic.

You knew you should probably stay away, or find some other way to feel better, but it was hard. Always was. And it was far easier to fall back into old habits, far more comfortable to keep making the same mistakes.

So you do.

You pull on the same heels, the same dress. Put on the same makeup, the same brand of lipstick.

The same routes, turns, and the same tinkering bell chime later, you are back in the same place you were a few days ago. It's just a dark shroud, heavy and suffocating, to hide in-- but you are back.

Comfortable, routine normalcy.

You slip into a stool by the bar. You liked this one, because you know the bartender thinks you’re cute and won’t card if you bat your eyelashes.

It was by chance you saw him a month ago, Wolf Keum, and you considered it the best stroke of luck in your life.

The luck seemed to stop short when you had one drink too many and ruined any chances of speaking to him. You supposed you deserved it, but it still stung more than you’d like.

You get whatever the fuck is the cheapest to start, but the bartender slides you a cosmopolitan anyways. You don’t complain because you know he probably won’t charge extra.

An hour passes but the hum of patrons never ceases. You love it here, you think. No one ever notices you, alone at the bar. There are too many stragglers to ever just pick one out.

Just like last time, there’s the clicking of utensils, the low murmur of conversation. It all fades to white noise in the background, and you’re relieved that your mind is slowing. Not completely, but almost pacified. Almost is always good enough.

Just when you think you’re smooth sailing, someone loudly pulls out a chair beside you.   
The grating sound of an old lopsided barstool dragging along unpolished tile is unpleasant, and the sharp noise reawakens sobriety.

You flex your wrists and send them a sour look, only to be taken aback when a familiar face takes a seat.

He doesn’t look at you but you know he’s just being sly.

You prop an elbow up onto the table and dip behind it, drink souring on your tongue, mirroring on your expression. What does he want, and what happened to his face? As if the mere glance you had taken hadn’t told you enough, you could see his hands on the counter out of the corner of your eye. Bandaged, lopsided gauze, and bruising all along the knuckles.

The bartender cards Wolf and he’s stiff about it. You don’t know if he’s irked you have a guest, or intimidated by his aura.  
You’re almost disappointed when Wolf pulls an ID out of his pocket. Of course he would have a fake.

He receives his drink promptly. But even when the bartender serves the other patrons, Wolf still doesn’t address you.

You wonder if he’s messing with you and give a small sigh. Your fingers find a lock of hair and twirl it absentmindedly, watching your face in the drink ripple, then vanish when you take a sip.

You squeeze your eyes shut and open your throat. It burns on the way down, when it settles in your stomach, and even when you stop drinking. You don’t really feel like staying any longer, but pride keeps you anchored to the stool.

And why _should_ you leave? You were here first. You couldn’t be intimidated by petty tricks like this, not when you’ve seen worse from middle schoolers.

You turn your head away from him and look out the window. Wonder if it’s obvious you’re ignoring him. You can see his larger frame hunched over behind you, silhouetting yours easily.   
See him pick up his glass with his fingertips, downing the entire thing in one go. He throws back his head when he drinks, and you can see his adams apple bobbing with each swallow. Its rushed, and you wonder what’s got him worked up.

A car passes by outside, and the reflection is scattered. You turn back to your drink and swish the liquid, pretending to give a shit about the citrus peel inside. The motions feel strange with your left hand, but the right one is currently blockading you from Wolf.

He’s being awfully quiet, so you sneak a look at him.

His sharp gaze clashes with yours, and your heart leaps to your throat when you realize you were caught red-handed.

You clear your throat and set your cup down with a _clink_ , dropping your right arm. You want to dish out an attitude to repay him for yesterday, but all you can muster is another quiet sigh.

“…Is there something you wanted?”

Your eyebrows pull together in a weak attempt to seem concerned, and when you pull up the corners of your lips, it feels like a thousand pounds.

There are bandages on his jaw, his neck, his nose, his forehead. Scratches everywhere else.

You feel for him, but the cool façade he puts up doesn’t seem to be looking for pity.

It was true he looked destroyed, yet the fiery spirit in his eyes burned bright, like coals crackling orange then splitting yellow in the fireplace. If you peered in for too long, they beckoned to you, dangerous but tempting.

He moves to answer you, and you’re mesmerized by the way his lips barely move when he speaks. He must not need to be loud to demand attention, you think. His fists do the work for him, which is ironic because you don’t hear him, too busy with staring at his face.

“I’m sorry, what?”

The corner of his lip tugs up a bit. He leans in closer and you can smell the whiskey on his warm breath, hot and wet on your face.

“You look like shit.”

Your body goes rigid and your throat closes. You’re not sure if it’s an adverse reaction to what he said, or a survival mechanism to avoid saying dumb shit that would land you in a hospital.   
The spite shoots into your gut, and it twists in irritation. If it shows on your face, he doesn’t react to it. You’re not sure if he’s too drunk to give a fuck about manners, or if he’s just like this all the time.

You scoff and wrap your fingers around your glass, clenching.

“So do you.”

He gives you a bit of a look, and it feels like amber eyes are slicing into your body, cupping your soul. You want to tear your gaze away, but he looks enchanting under the glow of the bulbs, hanging low.   
Eyes are half lidded, and it doesn’t help that hes angled himself to peer at you through his lashes, longer than you could’ve imagined. The alcohol induces a pink flush across his cheeks that seems to match the odd expression on his face.

You know he’s not trying to seem seductive, since his body language is still closed off. But when his tongue darts out to catch a drop of whiskey on his lip, you force yourself to look back down at your hands.

“Hah, fuck you.”

You grit your teeth and try to keep a straight face.

Did he sit next to you just to pick a fight? Why wasn’t he with his group of assholes? Were they waiting to ambush you?

You look up at him again, lips set in a grimace. “…Where are your friends?”

Wolf yawns to let you know he’s bored with your questions and doesn’t bother to cover his mouth. You want to shove him off the barstool but hold back for your own sake.

“Meeting. I didn’t go because the boss is a prick.”

You pretend to understand, but you don’t and he knows it.

“The Union, heard of it?”

You dig through the recesses of your brain and think you recall hearing some of the students at school gossiping about the “shuttle hatch,” so you tell Wolf that. He exhales a bit through his nose, and his lip quirks up again. He seems amused by something, but you have no idea what.

“Right. Shuttle hatch.”

There’s a long silence that stretches between the both of you after this, and it puts you on edge.

A minute passes into ten, into thirty. He doesn’t say anything else, but even though he sits there with an empty glass and a stomach full of whiskey, he won’t leave.

You’re beginning to feel like he’s testing you- challenging you, even. So you leave a sip of cosmo in your cup as an excuse to stay. You raise it to your lips now and then, and it’s lukewarm.

“What happened to your face?”

Wolf is distracted, eyes closed, face red and swaying slightly to the faint music over the speakers. You don’t think he’s even conscious until he speaks up, eyes still closed, body still swaying.

“Donald Na.”

His answer only served to confuse you more, and it definitely didn’t help that he spoke to cryptically.

“…Alright.” You mutter, not even attempting to hide your cluelessness. All these names and talking of bosses and unions confused you. It reminded you of a noir book you tried and failed to write, for obvious reasons.

Wolf understands the hesitation in your voice, “He’s my boss. The prick.”

Your head turns to him. He looks stupid swaying in the light with all those bandages on his face, but it was the face of someone far bolder than you, far less reservations. Even begrudgingly, you had to respect him for his audacity.

“Your boss did this to you?” When you ask, you forget to filter the worry out of it. It’s just a smidgen, but no doubt Wolf catches onto it immediately.

He peeks an eye open to assess your reaction, but you’ve stored it back in your sleeve in anticipation of this. He scoffs and closes his eye again. “Yeah. Fucker.”

You tap a finger on the counter, listen to your nail go _click click click._

Talking to Wolf was like playing a game, it was just as enthralling as it was frustrating. Talking to people hadn’t ever been this hard, even after everything happened. The lulls in the conversation, the lapses in his sentences- there was a rhythm to it, a puzzle that felt like it’d complete you, too.  
You weren’t not sure how to describe it, but it feels strange, novel. Like you were scaling a mountain with no foreseeable end, but you wanted to conquer it. Wanted to show him, the whole world, you were still _someone._

You scoff in response. “I don’t blame him. I’d sock you in the mug too if I had the chance.”

He shoots you a curious glance, but there’s light in his eyes, adrenaline rushing through his heart. You can see it in the way he shifts a bit in his seat, uncrossing then recrossing his legs.

“You have the chance now.”

You shake your head at him and purse your lips. When you speak, you can feel your heartbeat in your throat. “And give you the chance to throttle me after what happened last time? When hell freezes over.”

Wolf chuckles, it’s low, dark. Makes you nervous.

The hazel in his eyes is stirring now, like the tint of a cloud passing over splattered stars. When he smiles, he only uses half of his mouth to make a smirk, and it reminds you of the way a crescent moon curls, luminous, haunting, and almost sad.

“Are all girls this bitter after rejection?”

You entertain his dry joke with a dry laugh and clam up again. He doesn’t seem to care, but some tiny part of you wishes he did.

It was like playing with fire. Hot and destructive.

You both order another drink half an hour into the silence and finish it another half hour later. Now you’re just sitting here, both of you, seeping in the tension.

When your phone rings, it jolts you, not expecting the loud and obnoxious chime to be at maximum volume. The buzzing screen displays a name in big, bold letters:

ALEX GO

You look at the time above the name, 10:43PM. Your heart flutters once, twice.

Standing up from the bar, you push your drink with a sip left closer into the table.

“I’m going now,” you say to the air, in case Wolf isn’t listening. But he is.

When you glance at him, you just barely catch his eyes slipping from the phone in your hand to your blushing face.

There’s a wisp of something in the air, like smoke. Like jealousy. And then it’s gone.

He doesn’t respond and turns back around.

You feel almost disappointed, but promise yourself it doesn’t matter. But just before you head out, you hear Wolf speak again,

“Thanks.”

He pauses, like he’s pondering if he should explain why he’s thankful. Like he, himself, isn’t sure what he’s grateful for.

You understand him because you’ve felt it before too. You rest your hand on his slumped shoulders and give him a smile that you hope he can hear in your words.

“Get better soon, Wolf Keum.”

And again like last time, your heels click on mosaic tiles as you make your exit. The bell chimes, the door creaks, and hisses shut.   
The sound of the restaurant is drowned out by a peaceful silence. When you turn back to see if Wolf is watching, all you can see in the glass is your own gaze, peering back at you.


	4. Him, Always Gone

When you pick up the call, Alex is talking to someone else in the background.

The flame of excitement you feel flickers, and for a second you deflate. You stop your stride down the street, shadow falling long from your feet and quivering in the glow of the moon.

Did he dial you by accident?

You hear his voice, but it sounds distant. “—Shut up Ben, I know what I’m doing!”

Another voice you don’t recognize cuts in, sounding like he was holding in laughter.

“Man, Gogo, I think you pressed the call button already.”

“What? Oh shit, you—”

There’s distant, hushed arguing, then loud rustling. Suddenly, Alex Go’s voice is right by your ear, breathy, sounding as sheepish and awkward as ever.

“Oh, hey there! What’s up?”

You feel your lips turn up again, the burning in your chest and cheeks slowly returning. You press a hand to your mouth to stop yourself from laughing.

“You tell me, Alex Go. You’re the one who called, after all.”

There’s a pause, and you can almost _see_ his face now, eyes darting, a dumb smile, leg bobbing with a nervous jitter.

“Hah! Haha. Yep, that’s me. Me who called you.”

He pauses- a thing he does when he’s nervous, and you count, one, two, three seconds until he speaks again. 

“So, ha, what are you up to tonight?”

You think you hear someone give an exasperated sigh in the background, but it could just be a car passing by a street down.

“Not much. Pretty much the same night as all the others.”

You swing one foot in front of another, less focused on taking steps and more focused on balancing on the curb. Wonder if you always felt this way talking on the phone, wonder if it’s just Alex.

Alex hums on the other end, the sound tickling your ear.

“And what about tomorrow afternoon?”

A cartwheel flips in your stomach, and you almost loose footing on the curb.   
It sounds too smooth, and you bet he’s been practicing it in the mirror. It almost takes you off guard, but you keep a level head.

“What about it?”

There’s a dare in the question, and it sits boldly in the silence hanging between you and him.

He flounders, like you expect him to, but you smile regardless.

“Well I, uh,” He gives a nervous chuckle and your eyes soften. “I was wondering if you’d want to hang out tomorrow."

You give your head a tiny shake, feeling your eyelashes brushing your cheekbones. “Are you asking me on a date, Alex Go?”

He laughs gently, it’s sweet, but there’s a bit of a raw edge from nerves. “It depends how you answer.”

“And if I say yes?”

“Then I’d tell you to meet me at Eungang High School at two thirty, tomorrow.”

The fingers curled around your phone are alight with tingles and you flex your grasp on it, wiggling your toes in your shoes.

“I’ll be there.”

You catch Alex breathing a sigh of relief, attempting to dilute it with an airy chuckle. It’s cute, you think, and funny.

“That’s great- it’ll be great, I promise. I know just the place.”

“Anything’s better than another cup noodle lunch, so I’ll take your word on it.”

Alex laughs, and this time he’s not holding back. It’s real and it’s sunny, warm. It reminds you of something, but you can’t put your finger on it.

“I should’ve known you were still eating that stuff. You’re in for a treat tomorrow, I’ve heard people say their cakes are the best in Yeongduengpo.”

“Sweets, huh? I haven’t eaten out in a while.”

You turn a corner and stop at a red light, the dim scarlet glow splashes over the street, the sidewalk, colors your shoes. When was the last time you hung out with a group of friends? Hung out with anyone?

A thought pops into your mind and you turn back and look at the restaurant you came from.

“No way!” Alex’s voice sings into your ear again, just as the light turns green. “There are so many good places that opened recently, we gotta check them out!”

Your lips curl at his enthusiasm, and you turn back to cross the road. Listen to the _tik tok tik tok_ of the countdown. “Yeah, I’m looking forward to it too.”

You can almost hear him smiling through the phone when he pauses, trying to find more things to convey his excitement. But he reels himself back in.

“Well, I don’t want to take up too much of your night, so I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yessir, unless you get cold feet.”

Alex laughs again. “Nothing to worry about then, seeya later.”

“Goodnight, Alex Go.”

You pull the phone away from your ear and stare at the call time, crawling up second by second, until the call drops and the screen goes dim.

The next day rolls around without much nuance. Your head is pounding when you wake up, but not as much as it usually does after a night out.

Was it because you had something to look forward to today, or because you couldn’t drink with Wolf staring you down?

The question bounces around in your head for the duration of your morning classes, but fades by the time you’re pulling up directions to Eunjang High.

The school is relatively easy to find, given it was the only all-boys academies in the area. You wait outside the main gate, and chuckle at all the strange looks you’re getting, no doubt wondering what a student with your uniform was doing at Eunjang.

Eventually you catch a glimpse of black hair and a shock of green eyes in the upcoming wave of students, and wave. Alex perks up and throws up an arm in greeting as well, almost hitting a familiar, bowling-alley-carpet-eating redhead beside him.

Alex claps him a few times on the back in apology, and a taller boy with green hair taps his shoulder and points in your direction, lips moving to form a question.

Your gaze wanders and catches a purple one. The way his eyes shoot through you sends a cold shiver down your spine.  
His eyes pierce you, like he’s trying to remember something. Then his eyes snap up to your outstretched hand, in a wave. Unnerved, you retract your hand and pull your arms back into your body, turning and placing your back flush against the stone gate.

What the hell was that? You wonder, wringing your hands. Why was there so much space between Alex and his friends from the rest of the kids? Did they have a reputation or something?

“Whatcha thinking about?”

Alex’s face pops up from behind the stone gate, plastered with his usual goofy smile and all your thoughts melt away. Alex Go? A reputation?

“Haha, nothing. Just something silly.” You uncross your arms, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “Where did your friends go? They were with you a second ago.”

Alex folds his arms behind his head, leaning back a bit to peer back towards the school. His button down rises a bit, and you have to snatch your eyes away from the tantalizing sliver of skin that unveils itself.

“Ben said he left something in the classroom and made everyone go back with him to get it. He’s so scatterbrained, I don’t know what to do with him.”

You don’t have the heart to tell Alex what the real reason probably was, so you don’t.

You both begin your walk to the location, Alex leading the way.

“So, that uniform is pretty fancy huh?”

You look down at what you’re wearing. “Oh, this?” You tug a bit at the hem of the blazer. “Right, you haven’t seen me in my school uniform yet, huh?”

Alex shakes his head with a smile, his hands in his pockets. “Nope! To be honest, I almost didn’t recognize you. It’s like you’re a whole different person with an academy uniform on.”

You watch your feet next to Alex’s, faux leather uniform shoes beside brand name sneakers, both falling into sync. A bit of a half-smile slips onto your lips, teasing.

“Oh? My clubbing dress isn’t _that_ flattering, is it?”

Alex holds his hands up, pink tinging his ears. “H-hey! You know I didn’t mean it like that!” He rubs the back of his neck abashedly, casting his gaze elsewhere.

“I was just a bit surprised you attend Jagga Academy. I mean, I’ve heard they’re super selective.”

Your smile takes a gentler curve, and you sigh. “Yeah, I studied really hard my eighth year to get in. Those were the days.”

Memories of your younger self flood your mind. You were fresh out of middle school, hopeful, bright, and stubborn. Unstoppable, that’s what all your teachers had used to describe you. A fighter. A writer.  
And memories they would stay.

His face flashes in your mind, like a haze, like a dream. One second he’s there, then he’s gone. You push the thought back into your mind.

Right now was about having a good time, and you didn’t want to ruin that.

Alex takes a turn and you follow him, willing yourself out of your thoughts.

You look up, skimming the area, unsure of where you were.

You look to the left, just past Alex, and see a familiar karaoke center.  
You look to your right and see the flash of a familiar scaffolding, leading to a bank you knew the name of without reading the sign.

A cold wash of s _omething_ creeps up your body, something that feels like a licking flame, a cold fire. It inches up your back and into your fingers, and you ball them up, pressing your nails into your palms until the force has you trembling.

Something in your chest aches, and it keeps twisting, turning, throttling itself in your body and this can’t happen here, not now, not with him, not after being alone for so long.

A hand appears in front of your face, waving.

“Hello? Anyone home?”

You jerk your head up, pearls of sweat beading down your back and dotting your temples.

“Huh? Yeah?”

Alex gives you a look, brows furrowed, and lips pressed together. “Are you alright? You’ve been looking kind of out of it for a while.”

You swallow thickly and give what you hope is a convincing smile, but you can see a glimmer of yourself in Alex’s eyes. Shaking, scared, and shrinking, shrinking, shrinking away.

“Hah, yeah. Sorry, I’m just…”

You trail off. Don’t let yourself finish. You hate that your voice sounds so thin, so weak. You hate how you can’t even finish a sentence because of how your words sound like they’re teetering on the edge of oblivion, scared of falling into that dark, endless pool of vulnerability.

“…Tired.” You choke out, and it sounds like a cough. Feeble and sick.

Alex looks concerned now, but doesn’t ask any more questions.

He looks around, like he’s looking for a distraction, and you hate that he has to do that, hate that you’ve made this awkward, made him feel strange, fucked up this shit, again.   
It’s just past this block, you think. Then you’ll be fine, this will be fine.

“Hey!” Alex’s fingers graze your arm, and his fingers feel like freezing static on your body. “Look at that!”

He points a finger at something, you don’t know what, so you follow his gaze upward.

“Check it out!”

He jumps up and slaps the hard plastic backing harshly, the sound booms against your ears like a car crash, like any crash, like--

“Me and Ben used to do this all the time!”

Your lips feel dry when they part, you want to ask what he’s talking about, why he did that. But when you speak, no questions come out. Just a small and pathetic squeak,

“Huh?”

His green eyes glitter in the sun, his black hair is tousled, he’s happy and laughing and beautiful but you feel so _so_ cold.

“We’ve been doing it since middle school, haha! We used to have competitions to see who could hit it first on the way home from classes.” He demonstrates with a few swings, but you’re not looking at him.

You turn around to focus on the traffic light again, remembering the noise it made when Alex’s hand struck it, like unrelenting thunder.

“The traffic light?” Voice like crinkling paper.

“Yeah, but there’s kind of a funny story here. There was a day Ben said I wouldn’t be able to slap the top of the traffic light, so I took a running start from half a block down and struck that baby right where it hurts.”

He laughs and it hollows your heart like a great echoing cavern.

“I hit it way too hard though, and the thing started spazzing out. I think it took them like a whole three months to get it replaced!”

Alex smiles fondly at the memory and you try hard to smile with him, but turning up your lips feels like a dreadful task.   
Your heart thrums in your chest and it feels strained with each beat, like it’s imploring you to run.

There’s a huge storm now, whipping into a hurricane in your head. Two pieces of the same broken person trying to pull themselves together by tearing someone else apart.   
It’s not his fault, you know.   
You think this, but you keep seeing his face, those eyes, and the memories stay with you, make it impossible to move on.

You want someone to blame for everything that’s been lost, for every day you’ve had to live with blaming yourself not reacting fast enough, for not doing something.

The screech of tire, the scent of burning rubber, the beeping of the heart monitor echoes in your mind, the clicking of hospital tiles underfoot.

And then you see _him._ He’s there, illuminated by the halo of yellow light, flickering, flickering, then gone- and instead now you see green eyes, black hair, a radiant smile, and it’s so _blinding._

The _tik tik tik_ of a broken stoplight echoes in the back of your mind, like a haunting melody in the abyss of a night.

It couldn’t be Alex, you think, but you can’t stop clenching your jaw. Alex is too sweet, you reason, too kind, too oblivious, too careless, too reckless-

You stop yourself and take a shaky breath in, no. When would you ever learn to stop pointing fingers, to move on from this? Would you ever even get there?   
This wasn’t anyone’s fault, you think, but it was also yours. No one but yours, who was there and failed to stop it.

And Alex? Well…

You take in another stuttering breath of air and it floods your lungs, and you wonder how long you’ve been holding it. Your hands are shaking, so you push them into your pockets, carefully.

Alex has his gaze turned away from you, but his arm is hovering a bit, like he’s ready to grab you in case you pass out, and only then do you realize how pallid you look, you feel.

…Alex Go, silly, thoughtful, bright Alex Go.

And you remember his smile, the way he shines like the sun when he smiles at you.

Smiles.

At _you._

He helped you feel things you hadn’t felt in what seemed like years, he had given you wings to fly with again. And for the temporary moment you were with him, you were free to soar through the endless sky.

You gulp, and feel the warmth of his arm hovering over your body. Like an offer, an invitation. You want to lean in, to lose yourself in his touch, in his grasp. But something is stopping you, and you don’t.

For now, being afar is good enough, it’s as much as you deserve.

You both make another turn and he slows beside you, pulling you out of your trance, a gentle smile on his face, patient, and warm.

“We’re here, (y/n).”


	5. Loneliness Together

The shop is big, spacious, and refreshing.  
The windowpanes take up most of the wall space, dousing the entire café in golden afternoon light and complementing the cream and brown wallpaper and flooring.

The light purges the heavy thoughts from your mind. It’s an ethereal sensation, and the combination of the serene atmosphere and Alex’s presence help even out your breathing.

You stay close to Alex when he speaks to a waitress. There was a gentle hum of pop music over the speakers, you appreciated the way the songs blended into the sparse chatter and gentle tinkering of metal forks on ceramic plates.

You wondered how you didn’t know a place like this before, perhaps it opened recently? Your fingers raise to skim the engravings on the front desk. The discoloration on some of the dark wooden chairs told you otherwise.  
The divots in the polish whisper that you’ve been left behind, that time keeps going on, no matter how much you retract into yourself.

A small sigh slips from your lips and you divert your gaze to the floor, eyes sweeping over the pretty marble tile, catching the light through the windows and winking at you with a flourish.

Since that dreaded day, you had lived your happy afternoons in miserable loneliness in your bedroom, curtains pulled close to keep the sanctifying light off your cursed skin. You always knew the world would move on without you, but you had no idea it would hurt so much.

A gentle hand brushes your elbow and you look up.

“Come on,” Alex smiles at you, “Let’s grab a seat.”

You’re both seated in a corner booth, right by the windows. You like it because the way the sunshine hits Alex’s face makes his eyes glimmer with yellow flecks. His smile doesn’t seem half as blinding when the sun is right beside him.

“Haha, we got a good spot!” He laughs.  
His unending excitement with life is refreshing and the radiant energy that emits from him is amazing. So why can’t you get that damned streetlight out of your head?

You push it back again, but the darkness still seeps out, spilling over the table, the chair, the marbled floors.

“I really like how much sunlight we get in here.” You say, ignoring the tingling in your fingers. “I hope the food is as good as the vibe.”

Alex chuckles and hands you a menu from the stack propped up on the side. “Oh trust me, the food is the only real reason I keep coming back here.”

He pops the menu open and you eye the way he pours over the food selection, a wide smile on his face as he hums along with the tune overhead.

He’s so happy it’s strange, so happy you can’t understand it.  
Being so carefree was something you could barely remember. It was a breath of an old memory, calling out, beckoning and begging you to come back.  
But you can’t and you can only watch, enchanted, as someone else bathes in that blissful peace.

“Truth be told, Ben and I always get take-out here but this is the first time I’ve dined in. It always seemed like somewhere people studied, or took someone to impress them.”

He chuckles, scratching the side of his head.

“So I never had a good reason to eat in, until now.” He peeks at you shyly and your stomach flips at the expression he’s making, soft, endearing, and something else.

“Well, unless you brought study guides with you,” You raise an arm and prop your cheek on your palms, eyes meeting his with a spark, “I’m impressed.”

He ignites like a firework, all smiles, sparks and red coloring his cheekbones, and it’s amazing to watch, to feel, to know he’s so close you could almost touch him.  
Your fingers rebel, flexing out, but your arm stays anchored to the table.

“I, ah, that makes me really happy to hear.”

You can’t believe you’re the source of his happiness, but his grin right now is too earnest, too honest, and you wonder who the hell told him to wear his heart on his sleeve like that, who told him it was alright to smile at anyone the way he does.

“Ah, I really wanted to try this last time but Ben wanted the chocolate mousse instead. Let’s try this one today!”

You lean slightly across the table and peer at what he’s pointing at, and he follows in suit so you don’t have to move too far.

Up close, you can inhale his scent, lawn clippings and pine, a hint of something like pencil shavings. You peek at him through your lashes, watching the avid manner he spoke in, all drivel now that you were so close to him.

His eyes, aglow, alive, so endless and deep with a green hue you could watch them forever, embrace the way he understood the world through them, admire the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled too big, or laughed too hard.

You take in the way his eyebrows shoot up when he sees something he wants to order, or furrow when he complains and asks why it’s in French.

The way his lips curl, his cheeks push up, his hair falls, it’s all so expressive it almost hurts you to watch him, longing and captivated all at once.

“Ack! I’ll just get this one! It’s so hard to decide when everything looks so good. What about you?”

Alex glances up at you and catches you watching him, and the world shifts in an odd, enthralling way when his enthused expression melts into a calmer one, subdued compared to his previous energy, like a tiptoe around what was going on in his mind.

A moment passes, one, two, and his eyes trail down, down, down but you break the silence before his gaze can reach your lips. Look back down at the menu, and the tension is gone.

“The French toast looks good, we can both share so we taste more of the menu in one go.”

You pull back a bit, and his eyes follow you. Thrilled and confused.

“Sure, we can go with that.”

His voice sounds breathy, coarse. It raises the hairs on the back of your neck, but you just fold up the menus and recite the orders to the waitress who comes to pick them up.

By the time she leaves Alex has settled down again, though his gaze is still curious.

You don’t pay him any mind and rescind into the comfort of your soft leathery seat, not caring about the way it squeaks against your legs.

It’s a strange but comfortable silence. You think about how the quiet that occurs at home is so much more heavy and burdensome than the one now, wonder why that is, wonder how it’s so different, if the stillness should all be the same.

Maybe because it’s not stillness. There’s a sort of bubbly sensation in your stomach and chest, like pop rocks in your mouth, when Alex Go continues to ponder about you.

He doesn’t ask, but you can tell by the way he’s folding and unfolding his tissue and chewing on his straw. His mouth opens like he’s about to pose a question, but it evaporates into the air.

He does this until all the food comes, and only after everything is on the table do you ask,

“What’s wrong, Alex Go? Something on your mind?”

He looks shocked, like he has no idea how you read his mind, but relieved at the same time.

“Yeah actually, but I wasn’t sure how to ask without seeming… Intrusive.”

He pauses, doesn’t touch his food. Strange, because you swore you remembered him saying how hungry he was on the way here.

“You can ask me.”

Your voice is soft and reassuring, and you hope it’ll be enough to coax the question out of him. And it is.

“Well, I noticed that a lot of the times you seem really sad.”

He picks up his fork, spins it, but doesn’t eat.

“When I first met you, and that day at the market. On the way here, too. I know we aren’t super close or anything, but if telling me anything helps, I’d gladly hear you out.”

He scratches his ear. Scritch scratch.  
You’re taken aback, but you suppose you shouldn’t be surprised. You had cried the first time you met him and tried to pick a fight with a wall. But it’s the straightforward manner that he asks that shocks you the most.

You notice he’s still not eating, wonder if it’s nerves. You pick up your fork, making sure it clicks against your plate, and break off a piece of French toast. Almost like this reminds him there’s food on the table, Alex follows suit and begins to eat.

“There was a traffic accident.” You say. It comes out easier than you thought it would, easier than those times you choke up recalling the memories alone in your room.

“Not too far from here.”

Right by that accursed intersection, right by that damned flickering stoplight that had broken for reasons unknown to you until recently.

Alex looks up at you. He stops eating again and you curse yourself. His with eyes filled with a certain type of pity you’ve grown to detest, somehow it’s even more heartbreaking coming from him.

“I think about it a lot, about _him_ a lot… I just can’t forget. It’s agonizing.”

Like a curse, the memory plays in your head, the stark contrast of streetlights against his silhouetted body.

“I wish I could’ve… Your hands ball up, your voice faltering. “I can’t help but wonder how things would be different if I had seen it coming.” There’s a pulse in your windpipe that makes it hard to breathe or speak.  
You begin to drift. Your eyes cast downwards and your wrists feel numb, a painful mark of the day that had changed your life and taken so much from you. You remember him, can’t ever forget him, see him in the distance, fading into a darkness you could not reach into. Then Alex’s voice pulls you out of your daze.

“It’s not your fault.”

You look up, eyes glassy with tears you hadn’t realized were forming. “What?”

“I said it’s not your fault.” Alex looks up at you, and those soft green eyes are harder now. “No one can protect everyone.” His knee brushes yours under the table and you stiffen. You can’t help it and he doesn’t notice.

“It’s easy to blame yourself for these things, I know.”

There’s a look in his eye, one of pain, one of regret, you know it because you regard those feelings as good friends, as bad friends, as longtime friends.

“But your friend, he wouldn’t want you to hold yourself back because of it. No one would wish that on someone they cared about, even if it’s hard for us to believe...”

You swallow, but the lump stays in your throat. The feeling is back, bitter and dark, crawling along your skin and piercing your mind with thick venom.

“What if you’re wrong?” You ask, voice barely a whisper. What if _you_ wanted someone to blame for this?

“I’ve lost everything and I have no one else to blame except…” You fix your gaze upon Alex Go but all you can see is yourself, reflected in his eyes. You turn away, a grimace forming on your lips. “…I need to talk to him again, but hell, what if that’s not an option?”

The desperation in your voice inches up and out of your lips, it consumes your words with the darkness that has always lurked deep within your mind, taunting and keeping you up at night, harboring you to the bed in the morning with a grisly type of sickness.

“I hate living like this. But I just can’t move on, every day is reliving the same damn memory, but this is what I deserve.” You choke out a laugh, “Gone. Just like that. Because of _me._ ”

“You’re wrong!”

Alex’s voice rises enough to cause some murmurs, but he doesn’t care. You raise your eyes, so far gone that the roaring fire in his eyes feel only like a flickering candle.

“What good does it do to hold someone else back because you can’t let go of the past?” He cries.

You know he’s right, but his words burn, they sting, they feel like an attack. You want to block your ears and drown him out, but you know it won’t work now. They’re already inside of your head.

So you just sit there with your hands in your lap, hiding the way they tremble like leaves in a storm.

“It’s hard.” You say, and it’s true. Anger is all you’ve ever known since it happened. “I can’t help it.”

Alex snakes his hand over the table, an invitation for comfort.

Your body bursts with adrenaline and you want so badly to press your fingers into his, aching for the warmth of acceptance, the precious grasp of someone who will hold you gently, treat you delicately. But you are at war with your mind and it is terrified of the light, flinching away whenever Alex Go opens his mouth to rain upon you the blessed sunshine you crave yet fear so deeply.

You have been functioning only on the fuel of fear and anger since the crash. You are accustomed to the way it sears at the back of your eyes and the pits of your stomach, so you pretend to not see his offer. He’s so lost in his thoughts he doesn’t notice.

“I know.” He says. “But this isn’t fair to you.”

It sits in the air and curdles there, mixing with the inky blackness oozing from your pores and leaving behind a rancid odor of shame that only you could smell.

“I’m sorry.” You say. For being miserable, for making a scene, for blaming Alex, though he was not aware.

He smiles at you, always that damn smile. “You don’t have to be.”

But you are. You always will be.

You smile back at him, try to convince him he’s said the right things. “Let’s dig in.”

He grins at you, and his eyebrows quirk in that way that let you know he’s bought it.

“Let’s.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks for taking the time to read my fic! If you enjoyed, leave a kudos and a comment to show some support, it really means a lot to me! And remember, my requests are officially open on my tumblr!  
> < https://xbunnybunz.tumblr.com/ > See you guys soon!


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